Hermitic Christmas

Not for the first time in the last few years, I'm on my own for the festive season. But that's OK, I've spoken to K on the phone, and enjoyed her electronic presence, as it were, and had a chat with my brother, too. There is pleasant food and drink in the fridge - although I'll have to cook it myself, of course, but that's not even close to being rare - and more than enough entertainment by way of TV and the good old internet to be bored. Seeing a little eye candy would be nice, but that's not very likely given I'm staying at home today, so it's pointless to be feel sorry for myself. My situation is good enough, and certainly better than many people have to contend with. So I'll just say that I hope you all have a good Christmas.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Alone, naturally

So, my brief interlude of companionship is over - K left this morning, en route to her mother's for Christmas, thence to friends for New Year, before leaving the country - literally - in two weeks time, embarking with her boyfriend to Spain for, at least, months for a working holiday. I knew her departure was planned, of course, and I really hope she will have a great time, but I can't help feeling rather low. The corner I've painted myself into is completely self-inflicted, by choosing to not engaging with the world, so there's no-one to blame but me. That doesn't make it any easier, though.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Slow suicide

After the aftermath of the election fiasco, I've considered what I could do, how my life could be shaped in a fascist society. The options are not promising, frankly. As I've said before, my health militates against leaving the country, even if I had the money, which I haven't, and that's before the 'elephant in the room' scenario of my sexuality. Last Friday, fatalistic tendancies suggested that my best move might be to say 'sod it' and actively seek out the thing I want the most - a boy in my life. And there is a faint chance, maybe, it could happen. I've seen a guy, 12/13-ish, tall for his age, cute enough, and living pretty close to my flat, apparently (albeit not in the same building, sadly) - and he's spoken to me more than once, at his initiative. Rationally, the chances of him being interested in me are infinitesimal, but that Pandora's box won't go away. Even if we connected somehow, the chances of discovery, and their consequences, would be all too predictable, but the 'risk and reward' balance could be skewed by desperation.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Lemmings

As predicted, the lunatic asylum fascists have prevailed in the election. The 1% will doubtless be salivating about all the money they will make when they pick the NHS's carcass, but the thing I fail to understand is why so many average working/lower middle class people have been seduced by Johnson's lies. Are they all racist, bigoted xenophobes? Or just clueless dolts, the epitome of credulous 'sheeple', content to be led to the abyss? Or is it simply selfishness and greed, as I've long suspected in similar circumstances? Whatever it is, there's little doubt that my demise has lurched closer - with the NHS (which I've paid for already, in part, by way of my taxes for the last forty years, as far as I'm concerned) in serious danger, there's no way I could afford to pay for an 'American-style' health insurance package. Would that I could leave the country, but that's not an option given my health. The future is bleak - if I've got any future at all.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Election pessimism

Not for the first time in the last couple of years, what I want to say is being hamstrung by my aphasia, but I'll try regardless. The general election is imminent - four days away, as I write - and as far as I can see, the chances of a 'progressive' outcome are slim to none. The Great British English public seems to have been thoroughly beguiled by Johnson's lies, abetted by the lying fascist tabloid media - I've seen credible reports that British intelligence, amongst others, has weighed in with 'the 1%' to smear Corbyn (much as I'm thoroughly dubious about him, he's the only realistic option against the Johnson/Farage/Trump/Putin/Murdoch, etc, cabal) - and their racist and xenophobic schtick. By Friday 13th - how apposite - there's every chance that the Conservatives, and their disingenuous Brexit nonsense, will completely wreck the country, with their greed and selfishness. Given my raddled health, I'm going to be dead fairly soon, but my heart aches for K and her generation - she seems to be expecting a Labour victory, or, at least, a hung election, but I'm afraid she'll be ridiculously disappointed.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

A waking nightmare

I was watching a nature programme earlier on, and the narration mentioned the regenerative powers of axalotls, referring to the possibility of discovering medical applications for 'spare part surgery', and the like. But then my blood ran cold after the narrator said 'it could be a step closer to the dream of human immortality'. Can you imagine Farage, Johnson and, especially, Trump being immortal? Terrifying beyond words.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

It's not too late to vote

But it might be the last chance you ever have. The Conservatives Johnson's wannabe SA clones are already threatening to pull Channel 4's broadcast licence, because they can't stand dissent against their new 'fuhrer', after the channel refused to kowtow to the party over a climate change debate. And that's before the election. The 'sheeple' won't realise the implications, even if they cared, until it's too late. Read (and understand) Nineteen Eighty-Four, if it's new to you, because you might never get the chance again, if some elements of 'the forces of reaction' get their way. And if you're smug enough to think 'it won't happen here', see what happens in November 2020 if Trump loses the next presidential election.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Mortality

For no particular reason, beyond a few documentaries I've watched recently and a family this afternoon who were fairly obviously in the pub after they'd been to a funeral, black ties et al, I've been considered my own mortality. It's not that I'm expecting to keel over imminently - my health, for the most part, is no worse than it was two years ago, apart from the fact that I can't speak and write in a way that I would want - but there's little doubt, barring accidents, that I'm the next member of my family who will be pushing up the daisies. If I could write my own obituary, what would I say? If was being honest, I've wasted my chance, or chances - I haven't used my intellectual abilities to best advantage, however I might want to claim that I my choices were determined by working in an industry I enjoyed, mostly, I haven't looked after my health properly, especially in terms of my use of alcohol (I'm blogging in the pub, FFS), but, most of all, I haven't been myself, for the last 45 years and more. I could say I'm bisexual, but, realistically, I've always been more interested, by 70/30, even 80/20, in boys rather than girls. And boys, specifically predominantly pubescent boys, have been my downfall, my joy (albeit I've never had a boy of my own) and my despair. When the curtain falls, if I'm lucky (or unlucky) to reflect on my life consciously, I know that there will be a huge hole in my heart where a boy should have been.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Wreckers

I've long expressed my disdain, if not outright contempt, for politicians, but the current 'Brexit election' has surpassed even my worst expectations. The Johnson/Farage axis of selfishness, greed and opportunism seems to be steamrolling all comers - aided and abetting by the racist and xenophobic English (and I use the word English, as opposed to British, advisedly) 'sheeple' - while the opposition parties seem to be completely incapable of resistance. It's as though people want to be vassals to the '1%', and their fellow travellers. Well, careful what you wish for. You'll be Orwell's 'proles' before you know it.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Maybe it's time

Blogging was a big thing for me, especially in the first half of the present decade. I 'met', as it were, some special people (and a few bad apples, too, sadly), worked out (belatedly) who and what I am, had my life completely trashed, admittedly by my own hand, largely, and then suffered the coup de grace courtesy of my health, or lack of it. As a result, I've only committed a few dozen posts to the cyberspace ocean in the last two years or so. I would like to be more active now, though, but whether it could be feasible is another issue. I hope I can post something, if not daily, but at least a few days each week. The posts would be short, generally, given that it's still a strain to write fluently - this paragraph has taken nearly an hour - but I believe the effort will be worth it. No promises, particularly to myself, but I'm going to try.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Biennial echo

23 October. Two years since my life, or what passed for living, at least, ended. I'm referring to the anniversary of my stroke, of course. OK, I'm still extant, but it's very much a case of going through the motions. And to make it even more painful, I saw a boy, 12/13, at lunchtime (it's half term this week, and the weather today has been pretty nice, hence the outing and abouting), who was reminiscent of the boy, the epoch-making, utterly unrequitable love of my life. DBJ. I know, full well, that he's into his twenties now, and that he wouldn't even remember me, never mind any chance that he would care about my situation, but I simply can't forget him. Ever.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Vocation, maybe?

K has just completed her first day as a teaching assistant, and from what's she told me (by text) so far, it's gone very well. When she was 14/15 she was very keen on the idea of being a primary school teacher, but by the time she chose her A-Levels, the allure of being in the 'creative' field was rather stronger. Since her uni career has finished, though, her first love, as it were, has been rekindled, hence her decision in the last few weeks. Many people might say that being a graphic artist would be more 'glamorous' than being a teacher, but, ultimately, it's what's best for K, rather than what the world thinks, is most important.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Cynicism

Mine, mostly, but it's a common thread, as far as I can see. The latest 'Extinction Rebellion' protests has been the catalyst for my ire - I’m sure many of the protesters are sincere, want to change the world, and all that, but I'm equally sure that there are a cadre of professional malcontents who just want to destroy society for the sake of it, and, worse, those who have ulterior motives, hoping to be the new 'High' (as in Goldstein's book in 1984). I'm sufficiently old and ill to not worry about the world too much these days, but if I was still vigorous enough to care, I'd like to think that I'd rather be part of the solution than a mere slogan-waving 'rent-a-mob' participant.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Dreaming of writing

One of the most frustrating things that have happened to me since my stroke is the inability to write fiction fluently (if at all). However inept my writing might seem to some, I thought I had some minimal hope of someone enjoying my work. A random interaction between a (very) young couple on the bus a few days ago, though, has the literary 'juices' trickling, if not actually flowing, and I wonder if I could manage to produce a paragraph or two. I have a plot, of sorts, and a title, too. Whether it could materialise in any sensible way is dubious, at the best, but I can daydream, at least.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

A blast from the past, sort-of

For the most part, my unrequited, unrequitable longing for cute boys (and the odd girl or two) has focused on the pubescent ones, the 12, 13, 14 guys who I find so irresistible, but who are so close but so far away, in terms of actual interactions, as to be palpably painful. Occasionally, though, there have been a couple of 'legal' ones, mostly cute Daniel from my late lamented North West London local (I still resent the Wetherspoons hierarchy for closing the place, even though I live 200-odd miles away from the area now), and my newish semi-regular haunt has now recruited a very attractive barman, 18/19 at a guess, who would be more than acceptable as a 'friend'. Needless to say, he wouldn't be remotely interested in me, even if he's gay, but, as ever, I can dream!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Just my bloody luck!

I've been out and abouting this afternoon, and found myself in a coastal Wetherspoons not too far from my newish home. As I was waiting to be served at the bar, I was close to a passably cute 'minor'' struggling to free a pair of glasses by the 'free water' dispenser. Given that I'm a 'nice guy', at least superficially, I offered to help, did so, and had a pleasant 'thank you' in return. Sadly, though, the cutie was a girl, all the more galling because she told me that she needed two glasses to accommodate her brother! If only.....!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

It could have been worse

I've recently heard a (one-sided) conversation with a guy and his (presumably) ex in the pub. Plenty of rancour, plenty of 'he said/she said', children involved. At least my ex and I have been cordial, for the most part, albeit not very warm, to be honest. And, from my perspective, the fact that K is due to be staying with me (tomorrow, hopefully) rather than her mother for the next few months suggests that I haven't got everything wrong in our relationship.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Not just me - temporarily, at least

When I moved to the flat in March, my expectation was that I was going to be on my own permanently, effectively. Things can change, though, and it looks like K is going to be staying with me until the New Year. The plan was that my girl and her boyfriend were going to find jobs and accommodation in Yorkshire (he was working and living there when they got serious about being 'an item'), but it seems that they want to spend six months or so in mainland Europe - he's got a good friend who lives in Italy - and that can't happen until next year, apparently. So he'll live with his family in Hertfordshire for a few months, and K will draw the short straw and have to tolerate boring old Dad in the interim! Needless to say, I'm delighted to spend some time with my girl, even if it's only for the last part of 2019. Details haven't been completely finalised yet, but it's likely that K will be arriving here within the next two weeks. Smiles are all the more sweet for being unexpected!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

A pseudo-royal progress

Sky News (of course, who else, given their fascist proprietor) are broadcasting wall-to-wall coverage of Johnson's impending enthronement. The UK is completely fucked, the racist, xenophobia sheeple, who thought they were so clever to thumb their noses at the 'elites', sleepwalking into disaster without a whimper. Goodbye NHS, it was nice to know you. But never mind, the 1% will be absolutely fine, laughing all the way to the (tax haven's) bank. How long before the inevitable scapegoats will be publicly lynched to appease the mob? 'Hang the paedos', as the bumper sticker I saw said in London a couple years or so ago.  Hopefully my health will give out before that happens, but knowing my luck, I'll be just well enough to be killed slowly and painfully.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Heartsick

It's been one of those days. It began with a picture online of a boy who - very vaguely - resembled my cousin, my darling boy, the person who I would've sold my soul for in a heartbeat, at time he was at the pinnacle of his beauty. Then, completely randomly, when I was meandering around my new(ish) area, I got to thinking about Cammy, who's now in the last week of his first year as a senior school pupil. Why couldn't he be my pal, not my lover, he was far too young for that, even now, but it could have happened, if the stars aligned. Instead, I've got nothing and no-one.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Trivial

I've just had a sort of an epiphany. I was in the toilet of the pub the closest to being my 'local', albeit that moniker is vague at best, and I was fretting about the fact that I needed a haircut. But then it occurred to me that no-one cares, least of all myself. My life, such as it is, is completely trivial. If I dropped dead right now, the world and all its inhabitants wouldn't care a damn. I've thought about 'formally' abolishing the blog for a while now, but, again, would it matter? Not in this life, I suspect.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Long distance cutie, and a potentially awkward situation

I was watching this morning's live AFL match earlier (my Saints weren't playing, their game is tomorrow, but I like the sport in general and watch as many games I can), and found myself almost swooning. In the crowd I saw an absolutely, heartbreakingly, gorgeous boy. Even if he lived close to me I'd have no chance of getting to meet him, but the fact that he evidently lives in Australia makes it even more impossible. The miracles of modern technology, or something like that.
K texted me a couple of hours ago, asking about my plans to see her graduation ceremony next week, and it appears that my ex, who I knew would be going, unsurprisingly, has booked the same hotel as me for the trip. It's not that I hate her, or anything - our divorce was reasonably amicable, or, at least, not ridiculously traumatic - but our lives have been separate for seven years now, apart from matters pertaining to K, and I haven't anything to say to her these days, really, not least when I struggle to talk to anyone now because of my aphasia. It looks like I'll be keeping a low profile in 'uni-town'.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Graduate!

Some good news, for once - K has had her uni results, and she's got a 2:1. She's pleased - she was rather nervously pessimistic the last time we discussed her prospects - and I'm pleased, of course, but my main concern is that she's satisfied and happy with the outcome. Her education has been for her, and for her benefit, as far as I'm concerned, not for the benefit from my basking in her reflected glory. My girl is a graduate! Good times!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Hopelessness beckons

Johnson is odds-on favourite to be the new Prime Minister, Farage is lurking in the wings, Trump is even more egregiously vile than ever, the world is being raped by the rapacious oligarchy. And I still haven't got a boy in my life, and no chance of having one. Drinking myself to death seems to be the only answer.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Sometimes, aphasia is bad....

....but sometimes it's a nightmare. With Trump's state visit to the UK, there are so many things I want to express, but my damaged brain just won't cooperate. I'm left with nothing but unspeakable frustration - and that last sentence has taken me thirty minutes to say. 

Love & best wishes to all

Sammy B

The biggest problem of democracy is...

....that any fucking moron can vote. As if the Brexit clusterfuck isn't bad enough already, the next British prime minister, after May's abdication (and her performance has been pitiful from the start), is likely to be Boris Johnson, the only politician who can approach Trump in imbecility. And in the wings after the EU elections is the Brexit Party, fronted by the egregious Farage, who thinks the British English electorate will rise up and sweep him into power. Sadly, they might be stupid enough to do that exact thing. White (mostly male) America managed to elect the worst president in history, so why not us Brits? I'm likely to die relatively soon, but, as I said to K earlier this afternoon, her life could be a complete nightmare, sooner than later. I wish I'd had a vasectomy.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Perfect, except not

I've seen a meme, of sorts, in the news lately, of middle-aged men committing suicide of 'despair', presumably thinking their lives are pointless/worthless (or both). I can relate with the scenario, sometimes, when I see cuties like the guy an hour or so ago, next to my table in the pub, lovely, evidently bright, looking after his little sister (while his parents ignore him, largely). Perfection, for me - except that he will never be mine. And he's gone anyway. Life's shit, expect when it's really shit.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Old stamping grounds

I had a long day trip yesterday, 9 hours in London, my first metropolitan visit since I moved back to 'the North', as well as nearly five hours travelling. It was rather tiring, especially the last couple of hours, but it was thoroughly worthwhile as far as I'm concerned, because I had the chance to meet up with K. She was en route from a visit from her best school friend from her A-Level time, before heading back to her 'uni-town' base. As ever, it was lovely to see her, and catch up with her news and doings in more depth, as opposed to the nice but sometimes brief chats we have on the phone. Her degree course is effectively finished now (hence her trip), but she's still got to do a few bits and pieces, and doesn't have to vacate the house she's been sharing with her friends until the middle of August, so I suspect there'll be more than a little R & R in store! There is a chance that she might stay with me for a couple of weeks - possibly the second half of August, because her boyfriend wants to spend his family and friends around that time - and I would certainly enjoy her company, but it's far from confirmed as yet. Something to look forward, though, at least potentially.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Dodging a bullet, maybe

I've been in what passes for my 'local' Wetherspoons for a while today, and I managed to bag my favourite table, for once - windows on three sides, not in anyone's way, ideal for watching the world going by. And, being me, looking out for any cute boys who might wander into my eyeline. Bingo, I thought, for a while - a fair-haired guy, a bit older (miraculously) than usual for my tastes, even borderline legal, although I would've guessed at 15 if I'd had to bet on my life on his age. He was outside the pub for a few minutes, talking to with a group of slightly dodgy-looking (adult) associates, then disappeared for five minutes or so, before engaging, right by the nearest window to where I was sitting, with a couple of late twenty-something guys. And it was pretty immediately clear that he was a scam merchant - he was soon playing some card trick or another, and without much delay, won! For my perspective, he was evidently a bit older than I originally thought, too, maybe 18, but no older that, I'm convinced. The ideal 'mark' for me, given my desire for pretty much any available boy, cute or not, except that I'm pathologically cautious and cynical after all these years.

Edit: He's back in the pub, just now, with his deck of cards in hand. Not close to me, of course. But cute, without doubt.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The whole thing is a waste of time

My life, that is. I've wanted a boy to love for 45 years, and I've got nothing. The sooner my (lack of) health kills me, the better.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

News, but not life-changing

K rang me earlier today - she's back at 'uni-town' after a few days with her mother, and told me that my ex has got engaged. Some might be jealous, but I'm not one of them - as long as she's happy and safe, I'm quite sanguine about it all. I loved her, maybe still love her now, for a long time, but, as I've said several times, my marriage was always an accident waiting to happen. Sadly, though, the chance of me finding someone of my own is somewhere between infinitesimal and nil, given my sexuality and my (lack of) health. As I said to my girl, though, I wouldn't mind a hug at the moment, but that's extremely unlikely, too.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Propositioned - but not really

I've had an encounter within the last hour that has been close to surreal. I was walking from the bus stop to the flat, a mere couple of hundred yards from my front door, when I was asked if I wanted a hug. It was a boy, 12/13, who spoke, and while he wasn't supercute, he was more than passable, especially for the likes of me. He was messing about, needless to say - there were a couple of girls involved with him and his mate - but I couldn't help but smile wryly. I was a good boy, really - all I said in reply was ' You don't understand what you're saying'. Would that he was serious, but that would never happen. Ever.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Frustrated, more than usual

I'm well aware that many people will consider what I'm going to say falls in the 'too much information' category, but I'm going to say it regardless. Maybe because it's springtime, but I've been rather horny in the last few days. Apart from the obvious considerations of my health and age, this presents me with more than the usual problems - or more, the continuation of the problems I've had for the years, namely my sexuality. I've seen several cute boys, and even a girl or two to my liking, too, over the past weekend, given that it's still the school holidays, and that it's been fairly nice, weather-wise, but the familiar 'double-edged sword' cliché has been prevalent. I've veered between loving the eye candy and feeling borderline depressed, given the fact that I've got virtually no chance of any contact, even to speak a young person, never mind more. I'm not suggesting that I'm on the point of doing something damaging to an innocent bystander, or even to myself, but the pressure has been raised somewhat. What can I do about the situation? Nothing, in all probability. Life is shit, then you die.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Kenzie

It's the first day of the school holidays, and it's been a nice day weather-wise, too, ideal for meandering around and watching the world go by. The nicest view I've seen (so far, at least!) has been a fair-haired boy, with particularly lovely green eyes, on a bus with his mother and sister (I was just behind them, so I couldn't help hearing most of their conversations). As ever, he was gone all too soon, the old 'ghost' syndrome coming to the fore, but still better than not seeing him at all. Kenzie, you've made my day!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Blondy

Now that I'm starting to get my bearings with my 'new pastures', it seems that the area is fairly well stocked with 'eye candy'. One example is a guy I've seen five times now, over the last two weekends, and he's cute. 12-ish, tall for his age, long, coltish legs, nice face, and very blond, with almost white hair. Most of the occasions I've seen him so far have been from my kitchen window - there's a small park/playground close by - but I've seen him by the local bus stop, too. Now that the clocks have gone forward, and the weather is better (hopefully!), I'll be keeping my eyes peeled! Not, of course, that I'll expect to engage him in conversation any time soon, but just seeing him is a bonus.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The prom

This trip has been novel, for some years, at least. I've been walking - albeit only for half an hour or so - along a seaside promenade. And it's been bracing, as they say - it's not officially Spring until tomorrow, after all! This particular prom is one I've visited before, but not for nearly twenty years - K was in a buggy, all of eighteen months old, the last time I was here. You can have too much of a good thing, though, so I've swapped the sea breezes for a warm Wetherspoons and a pint or two - everything in moderation, and all that!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

The North

The North West, at least. It's finally happened, I'm officially living at the flat, albeit with a considerable amount of help from my brother and sister-in-law over the last 24 hours - they've just left to travel back to their place. Now it's done, I'm comfortable in the decision I've made - I've bought a pretty good flat in a reasonable area, everything seems to be working, more or less, and at a bargain price. The downside is there's supposed be a storm due this evening in this area. Mind you, I don't have to go out at all today now, so I'll aim to chill out!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Householder!

As of about of 30 hours ago, I'm officially back on the property ladder. It almost failed to happen yesterday, though, due to a piece of crass incompetence by the estate agents - I was very annoyed (and K was very embarrassed by my reaction), but they found a way to solve the problem, which otherwise would've meant another 450 mile round trip for me and a day's delay, releasing the keys to me just after midday. I was still grousing about the incident on the bus to the flat, but my spirits were very much lifted as soon as the door opened, reminding me what I'm getting for my money. The flat was in immaculate order, all the furniture and fittings were as described and, as far as I could see, all working. If I'd had some bedding and a change of clothes, I could've stayed there last night. As things worked out, though, I'm back in 'domicile-ville' at the moment - K had to head back to uni today, and I haven't got the wherewithal to move house yet - my brother will be helping me, but he's not available for a couple of weeks, but by the end of the month, I'll be living in the place permanently. My home. Just awesome!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

Virtually there!

Within the last 90 minutes, I've completed the last bit of bureaucracy with the solicitors as regards the flat (as well as draining two thirds of my bank account!), meaning that the next transaction with the property will be picking up the keys on Thursday morning/lunchtime. My home! Amazing! To make it even better, K should be with me when it goes through - looking after her investment, I guess, given that she will be the beneficiary of my estate, such as it is, when the time comes. So, back to the North West, after almost 20 years. Plus ça change, and all that.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B

January miscellany

The first month of the new year, or, at least, the last week, has started to take shape. After a month of stasis (not helped by the solicitors awarding themselves more than two weeks holiday over Christmas and New Year), things are happening on the housing front - I should have all of the conveyance documentation in my hands, signed and witnessed, by tomorrow, and then winging its way by the end of the week. As long as there aren't any unforeseen snags, it then should just be a case of paying the money and nominating a completion day before the flat will be mine. My own home, after nearly seven years. I can hardly wait!
One downbeat aspect of the last few weeks is that my health hasn't been wonderful - I've been functioning, in terms of mundane stuff like shopping, but that's all, and I haven't been out and about much. As a result, I've been watching far more TV than usual, but that hasn't been completely negative. I saw a programme yesterday that I might otherwise missed, a BBC documentary, called Speechless, about aphasia, a subject I know about all too well. My situation is far better than some people's - one of the guys featured had a much more severe stroke than mine, with consequences to match - but it's still a nightmare scenario for me, compared to the life I led before 23 October 2017. This blog post has taken, for instance, more than an hour and a half to compose, whereas it would've been finished by 15-20 minutes in 'the old world'. Shit happens, I guess.
Not wanting to finish on a low note, though, I saw a really awesome sight on the way here (here being the pub, given I've felt considerably better today than many recent days) - I saw a red kite, for the first time in years. I used to see the birds fairly when I was working in Berkshire/Buckinghamshire area in the early noughties - there was a biggish colony in the Chilterns, close to the M40 - but I didn't know that they'd ventured into Surrey. After a brief internet search, though, it seems that they've been sighted in the area for the last three years, including, evidently, 'Domicile-ville'. I'll be keeping my eyes open, for sure!

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B